Being Stubborn Only Gets a Birdy So far!:
by Kristie Lynn
Summary: When Robin becomes ill, trying to be a tuff-guy about it doesn't seem to be working in his favor as everything blows up in his face...especially since Bruce Wayne personally knows how far a little TLC for his little bird could go, unaware to his sidekick.
1. Chapter 1: Good Morning to my toilet

**So I'm back! =D Sorry I left this site for awhile because I'm a bum but have seriously been busy (: & I hate long author's notes…so here's just a Young Justice story about Dick trying to ignore something plainly obvious, and just needing to be taken care of for once by his 'Dad'… (:**

**Oh…& NO slash…that'll just ruin the moment…=D**

**-Kristie =)**

…..

He's always been tough. Scrapes and bruises were nothing to sniffle about, and Robin always tried to be as mature as possible when it came to his weaknesses as the youngest member of his team. This was obviously an unrealistic vow to be forever kept, because when little Dicky Grayson woke up, he felt terrible. No, that would be an understatement; Robin felt like absolute shit! His head felt like it weighed 200 pounds….along with his limbs.

It felt like nails were digging into his temples, and he was freezing. He didn't feel too good the night before, along with Bruce mentioning that he looked a bit pale, but he shrugged it off, blaming it on his nerves. The lie worked, but today, oh today was 100000 times worse. It was safe to say that the boy wonder was certainly not feeling the aster.

With a great amount of effort, Robin managed to squirm free from his dampened bed-sheets and tried to sit his sweaty upper-torso up. Immediately after his posture shifted, an ENORMOUS wave of nausea hit him, and he felt like he was going to barf out his insides. He quickly lurched forward, but fell down when his knees suddenly gave out from beneath him. Pathetically, he crawled with his aching body on the ice-cold floor to his bathroom a few feet ahead, pushed the ajar door open with one sweaty hand, and almost cried when he found his savior of a toilet in reach.

As if he just ran a marathon, he used his remaining strength to hoist his upper-half partly over the toilet so he wouldn't miss the bowl, and puked his stomach contents out. After about 5 minutes of throwing-up, he unconsciously wiped his clammy, residue-left outer mouth with the back of his hand and slumped to the bathroom tile in exhaustion.

He hadn't been this sick in a long time; not since he and Bruce were fighting the Joker and somehow he managed to get stuck into the Pacific Ocean for two hours. Lest he forget that it was the middle of January, and he had to swim back the 7 miles to shore. If it wasn't for his well-adjusted to the elements and harshly trained body, the 11 year old probably wouldn't have survived. But at the time, he did manage to catch a severe case of hyperthermia, the flu, and bed-rest in the med-bay with hot fluids constantly being pumped into his small body for a good week or so. Even after that, he was kept off patrol for 2 more weeks until he was finally well enough to get back into being 'Robin.' But either way, he just didn't really catch harsh colds during the year like most.

He could feel the heat radiating off his body like a heat lamp, but the shivers wouldn't stop. He knew he had a fever for sure. After about 5 minutes of trying to just calm down his convulsing, Dick managed to have his back pressed against the wall, and his head in his hands. Wiping away his sweaty, black bangs, he attempted to see straight but everything was spinning and vertigo overcame him as he fell forward and yet again, vomited.

Even when he did have a cold or sickness that didn't seem too bad, he kept it to himself. For one, he hated being fussed over in that manner, and two, it made him feel like more of a small impurity in the hero world than ever. The Bats seemed to not show weakness and even kept a straight face while sporting a broken arm. If Bruce could handle a broken bone, then he could surely handle a virus.

"_Ok Dick_, he mumbled to himself. Wow his voice sounded raspy and congested. _This_ _is no big deal. I'll be fine. I just need some Tylenol, a little toast to settle my stomach, and everything will be A-Ok." _He knew his routine would help; it had to. He could just go pop them in, take a shower, clean up this mess, and be ready for the day.

The YJL (Young Justice League) were assigned to have a great mission that day, and Robin would take the lead for once. If he proved himself, then Kaldur wouldn't be so hesitant about leaving the position in the future, and Batman would be proud. He's been working his birdy-ass off for awhile now to be in shape for this. He worked so hard, and a stupid little bug wasn't going to ruin it!

He managed to stand with great assistance from the door and wall, and made his way slowly over to his dresser to get his civvies out. While stumbling over, he managed to jolt his nightstand and his lamp ungraciously fell, crashing onto the hard-wood floor. "Damn it", he hissed as glass scraped against his bare feet. He hopped up onto his bed, luckily not falling back-ward, and unsteadily reached for some tissues to his left to soak up the blood about to drip from his foot to the floor. Wincing as he applied pressure to the semi-deep cuts on his left foot, he left it there and reached backward to grab cloth from the drawer when he felt dizzy again and puked viciously to his side, coughing very loudly.

\

He couldn't help but moan at his sore stomach and rub his throat afterwards, but quickly shut-up when the sound of heavy, even footsteps met his ears. "Richard", Bruce yelled in a calm manner as he made his way towards Dick's room. Yeah, he was going to hear it in a moment.

**Woooh Chapter 1. Finished! =D There'll be more…It's 2:30am…and I need to get on a somewhat decent sleeping schedule for stupid school coming up…so adios until the next update…and Thanks for reading! (Reviews make me smile, and criticism is greatly appreciated because I want to help my writing in as many ways as possible!**** )**


	2. Chapter 2: Not Exactly a Slip'n'Slide

_**CHAPTER 2 =]**_** Nickelback is stuck in my damn head aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah D: lol thanks for the reviews and here's some more of this one. There are a lot of Dick and Bruce's thoughts in this one…& there'll be more chapters! (:**

…

Dick panicked. He couldn't seem to stop his mind from racing since the very moment Bruce said his name. _Oh my god I am so dead! If Bruce knows that I'm sick then I won't be able to go on the mission. What if he finds out that I was trying to hide it? No-Bruce couldn't suspect anything; there's nothing to suspect. God damn he's the Bat, who am I trying to fool? Wally will probably screw up the mission! Oh he's my best friend but AHHHHH! I'm so selfish, me being sick would mess up the whole thing if I can't even stand! _But that didn't mean he was going to look weak in front of Bruce, _if I can't handle this, then he probably won't even trust me on patrol for the simplest of problems._

Dick could feel the hair ripping out of his scalp from the force he was using to pull at it. _Ok Dick, ROBIN, relax, this is nothing. I've dealt with worse than Daddy-Bats…_**"**Dick, are you awake", called Bruce again, his voice louder this time. Dick couldn't help but yelp, ok-maybe he was freaked. He began to stand up, but felt nausea take over his concentration again, yet held the bile back. _I will NOT throw up again! _He knew that he had to answer, so he pushed the broken glass under his bed the best that he could with his foot, not being able to sustain getting up again, and decided that he would have to face Bruce.

It was a perfect time to stay strong and confront his mentor as Bruce came into his room after a light knock. Just as Bruce was about to come in, Dick began to steady his voice and say hello when his tummy flipped and fell forward on his hands and knees, gagging. "Richard, what- Bruce was cut off when he realized that his protégée was indeed barfing his brains out. "Oh-uh-Dick", he leaned forward more into the room to get to him when he lost his footing on something slippery and went crashing to the ground. _I should have seen that coming, _thought Bruce as he realized that he truly slipped in his son's vomit.

Any other person probably would have yelled in outrage and disgust or throw up themselves, but this trained Bat simply gulped, looked away from his sopped pants, and somewhat crawled toward Dick, who was now to dry heaving while looking at the floor. He looked pale, WAY too pale. He put a comforting hand on the buy's sweaty back, when Dick looked up, and gained about 2/3 of the color back in his face when he realized what happened. The blush made it look like his head was going to steam out.

Bruce easily sensed this, and synthesized with how embarrassed the kid must be feeling. "Dick, said Bruce calmly, it's alright." He stood up slowly, not wanting to panic him, but Dick did NOT look well one bit. He cautiously moved toward him, and slowly pulled him onto his feet. He then cupped Dick's chin and cheeks with his large hand to look at his face. While studying Dick's features and charisma at the moment, he deciphered that he had a very high fever, had the chills, and his eyes were unfocused + glazy.

He was worried, but the sooner they got to the medical area of the mansion the better. Alfred was currently at the store, so he was on his own. Dick looked up at Bruce, noticing the throw-up on his pants. "I'm-I-sorry, gu-guess you need a new intimidating suit for the d-day", Dick slurred guiltily at his dad. Bruce couldn't help but smile a little bit, he still had his wit for sure, but the resentment and sorrow were very obvious, even with the charm in it. "There's nothing to be sorry for son, replied the dark knight. You're ill, some things can't be controlled." Dick looked at him with slight relief and a small nod. "Good, now let's go see what's wrong with you, alright?" Dick's eyes were a good enough answer as they made their way out of the room, avoiding the filthy floor and with Bruce practically carrying him. Things seemed to be going smoothly until they reached the door, and Dick threw up, again, on Bruce's new leather boots. This would take awhile. He thought about portable toilet things for throw-up as he swiftly ditched the contaminated shoes and continued, a little faster, to bring Dick to the med-lab.

**Well, there is definitely going to be more. Poor little vomit boy, but he's like me. I hate being fussed over when I'm sick..=p See yah at the next chapter where we'll see some all-too-familiar family moments…(: **


	3. Chapter 3: Thankful For My Febreze :

**Hel-loooo ****Chapter 3****! =D I haven't updated in awhile. I'm sorry! I have some new story ideas and I should be updating more frequently since I'm grounded…..Stupid cops…..curfews….and barbed wire in bushes hahah =D! Weeeeeeeeeelllllppp…enjoy =] & thanks for the reviews guys! (: PS. expect another chapter up by this weekend.**

….

Thank heavens for Febreeze! Bruce could not be more thankful. The smell of puke was smothering, but the name-brand air freshener seemed to rid the hallways of it for the most part. Vomit wasn't supposed to smell that putrid from what he remembered. Then again, he didn't inspect the smell of throw-up on a daily-basis.

He was carrying Dick to the medical area of the mansion, where they performed tests and got patched up after patrol and such. By the time Bruce was there, Dick was already unconscious in his mentor's strong arms, being cradled like a tike.

Walking through the slide open-motion doors, he gently laid Dick, on his side in case he threw up again, upon a metal examination table. Bruce then checked the kid's blood pressure, heartbeat, temperature, and etcetera. Dick's glands weren't swollen. He took some blood to test too. Every-thing seemed about normal until he took Richard's temperature, and it read 103.2 degrees. He had a fever, but that could be a side-affect from just about anything. There wasn't much else to do to see what exactly was wrong with him until he woke up. Sighing in frustration, he tried to get Dick into a more-comfortable position.

Bruce gingerly discarded Dick's pajama top and bottoms, leaving the small teen in only his boxers, superman ones to be specific. He couldn't help but chuckle at the sight, the little traitor, but at least the underwear were clean enough to keep on because if Dick knew that Bruce saw his-uhm- parts while he was unconscious, the acrobat would die from embarrassment. Daddy Bats then snatched some sanitized cleansing-wipes and tidied up his son, ridding him of the excess puke and sweat that practically painted his frame.

While finishing up with wiping Dick's face, Bruce couldn't help but savor the moment where his ward at least looked relaxed to a point. He used his large thumb and index finger to trace where Robin's signature domino mask would've been, and sadly smirked at how normal Dick actually looked. There were no looks of revenge in his eyes, no random giggles of laughter and smirks while out-witting some thugs, or even just fierce training expressions on his face. Yet, he found that he could look at his son in such a way when he was ill weird, but perhaps all "parents" thought like that with their own kids. It was truly bittersweet.

Temporarily dismissing his thoughts, he carefully picked up the boy wonder-**no**- picked up his **son,** and placed him in a nearby medical-bed. Then, Bruce pulled some sheets over him, and put a cold compress on his flushed, overly-hot forehead. The kid was obviously dehydrated from all the puking, so he swiftly wiped the outermost part of Dick's hand with an alcohol swab, and injected an I.V. to get some fluids into his body, along with some medication to reduce the fever as-well. Then, he hooked him up to a heart-monitor and the other basics, preferring to be safe than sorry.

He figured that he might as well clean things up while Dick slept, so he left a cup of water, a bedpan (for if he needs to get sick again) and a post it note saying that he would be back shortly on the bedside table. Dimming the lights down very low, he walked out of the ward toward the messes that awaited him and Alfred.

…

Dick remembers waking up with the most disgusting taste in his mouth that he could EVER RECALL, even more revolting than when he and KF had a milk-drinking contest to see if they really would throw up after a jug. It turned out that the milk was sour and chunky from over 2 months before, and Megan was keeping it was an attempt to make crème. In simpler terms, her misconception led to two very sick boys, and her not being allowed to make things without consultation **ever** again after that.

Shaking away the thought, afraid that the flashback of the taste would make him sick again, he managed to move his achy limps to find any source to act as a sponge to the taste, and found a cup of water conveniently next to the bed with a bed-pan and note. Dick quickly used half of the water to rinse his mouth out and spit into the container, and drank the rest. After feeling a bit better, he reached for the night and was able to read the note, that said- _Dick, remain in bed. I'll be back shortly. –Bruce _Yup, that's Bruce. His head was pounding, but he definitely felt better than before, especially since he wasn't gagging nonstop. Noticing a melted cold-compress by his shoulder, he placed it by the empty cup and flopped back onto his pillows.

Taking a deep breath, he ended up cringing when stabbing pains and aches erupted from his abdomen. _Don't be a baby_ _Grayson, you've had worse_, Dick thought fiercely_. _He could feel himself relax and took light, quick breathes to avoid more pain. He hoped that Bruce would be back soon; he never liked being in hospital settings in the dark alone, but no-one needed to know that. As if somebody answered his prayers, the sliding doors suddenly opened, revealing a concerned looking Bruce swiftly making his way toward Dick's bed.

**Next chapter will be on diagnoses and some surprises… (:**

**Thanks for reading and sticking with my screwy-schedule. Also, constructive criticism is appreciated! =]**

**-Kristie **


	4. Chapter 4: The Bitches of Irony

**Last: Chapter 4 =D Thanks for Reviews and the good advice everyone! =) I appreciate all my readers! (: Enjoy the ending…**

…

Of all the things that could happen to Robin, the young, athletic partner of the famous Batman, food poisoning didn't really seem like a main priority for concern.

After Bruce came in, he took some urine, and asked about other symptoms. Dick didn't recall eating anything strange, but a harmful bacteria was found in his blood and stool from spoiled seafood. He and Wally had been on a mission weeks before in Cancun, and had a meal there because KF had to refuel. Robin didn't think that it would be a bad idea to get some grub as well, and has some simple shrimp-scampi at a high-class restaurant.

The symptoms didn't show until last night, or at least not as bad. He felt a little off that week-sure- but nothing happened to that extent. He'd be fine, as long as he was kept hydrated by drinking a lot of water and getting some fluids through an I.V. It would reduce nausea, weakness and vomiting to some extent. He was also going to get some injections to control vomiting and stomach aches, along with a light food-diet for few days.

…

"You need to be more cautious Dick; I've taught you to** never **eat food out of country unless I am with you", scolded Bruce as he was filling various syringes with medication for the kid. Dick knew he screwed up, and was totally embarrassed.

"I know Bruce, I-I'm sorry, he replied in a regretful voice. I didn't think anything would really happen though, you know? –Especially since I was I civvies."

Bruce knew what Dick meant all to well. "I understand son, but anything could happen, and even though relaxing sometimes is ok, you should **never **let your guard down. What happened, which I'm sure was a mistake on the restaurant's part, was lucky. You don't know what'll happen out there, and just because some evil-mastermind didn't try to poison you-yet- does not mean it won't happen. I just want you to be safe. Maybe being so far away un-supervised was a mistake on my shoulders. You clearly aren't ready."

At this point, Bruce just kept rambling; he was scared for his little bird. Dick felt his heart drop into his gut.

"I understand, replied Dick. But that doesn't mean I need to hide. Please! We had a successful mission, and you of all people, have taught me to expect the unexpected. So just because something didn't go according to protocol, doesn't mean that we need to be lessened. We learned from this- I learned."

Bruce thought about what Dick said carefully. Perhaps he _was_ overreacting a bit. He made his way back over to his son, sitting up in the hospital-bed, and pulled a chair up to it. He beckoned Dick to extend his arm, and he began swabbing it with alcohol wipes.

"Ok, just be more observant next time and tell **me **when a situation comes up like that in the future. We were let off lucky with food-poisoning from spoiled shrimp, but next time it could be battery-acid in a soda."

Dick nodded, but winced as he felt one of the 8 injections go in. Bruce just continued stabbing him, as he continued talking.

"You're off duty until further notice-aiming for at least a week off. There will be **no** visiting your team until you have a clean bill of health. Expect double your training once you're better, along with an extra-course from Barry on detecting chemicals and hazardous consumption courses; Wally **will be **attending it with you. Bruce finally finished with the needles as he stuck the eighth band-aid on the 13-yearold's arm. You'll remain here for the night, just in case; I'll inform Alfred, and dinner will be served within the hour."

Dick nodded, mumbling that he would comply. "Oh, and one more thing- _Man Bruce I get it,_ thought Dick! Bruce went toward Dick, ruffling his spiky-raven hair with his large hand. He then placed it under the boy's chin, arching it to make him get eye-contact. I'm glad you're okay", he finally concluded with relieved smile. Dick blushed, and grinned.

"Yea, he chuckled, me too."

…

Three days later, Dick was feeling a lot better, but his abdomen and stomach still throbbed, even with pain-killers. He was also making an **exceptionally** large amount of trips to the restroom. Currently, he was sitting on the large, black sofa in the living room, sighing as he clicked through many…many channels on the flat screen television in front of him. Nothing was on. He was beyond bored, and had only been allowed to eat applesauce for the past couple days. Did he mention that he hated apples? He finally gave up, clicked it off, and went to use the bathroom again.

After was sitting on the sparkly-white toilet when he suddenly realized probably the most devastating thing ever…there was **no toilet-paper! **There was none…nada…zilch! _What the hell, there has to be like five rolls in here this morning! Ughh!_ Dick was aggravated. After searching the bathroom for something the best that he could, he slumped back down in defeat. "Well, this is underwhelming", he mumbled as he stared at the ties on his pajama bottoms that were by his knees. Alfred was at the super-market, and Bruce was on patrol, so no one could get him some, and the only place where there would be some was 2 floors up.

After nearly half an hour of just sitting there feeling disgusting, he decided to make a run for it and use the upstairs bathroom. He needed to use the toilet again anyway. After flushing & washing his hands, he cracked open the door and listened for any noise at all. Other than his own breathing, silence simply greeted him. Nevertheless, he started to run. A minute later, the ninja made it to the restroom 2 floors above his previous location, and greeted the toilet paper inside like gold. After he was finished, he hopped in the shower, deciding that he might as well get washed up for dinner.

He collected a towel from the rack next to the bathroom mirror, placed it on the hanger by the shower door, locked the bathroom door, and began stripping. The kid then graciously invited the hot water to cleanse him, and some 15 minutes later, he was squeaky-clean. =)

Turning off the water, he pushed the shower curtain aside and reached for his towel. His towel, the one he remembered hanging up just before, the white fluffy one that he just picked from the rack on the wall, was **gone**.

"What the- he cut himself off as he remembered that he could just get another one from the rack. He shook off excess water-drops from his muscled frame so he wouldn't drip all over the floor, and stepped out onto the floor. Oddly, the bathmat was nowhere to be seen, along with all the towels that were just on the rack. There was nothing in the bathroom. There wasn't even a single washcloth to be found. He panicked and felt severely violated. Rushing toward the door, he checked and indeed, it was **still** locked. For Pete sake, his dirty clothes weren't even on the floor!

The scenarios were running through his head wildly. _It could've been Alfred, but how would he have gotten in…How would anyone get in? Wow Grayson, this is not your day. _To make matters worse, the heat seemed to be off in the mansion, and the 20 degree weather outside complimented with a cold bathroom & no covering seemed like a curse. It was then that he, while looking toward the heating vent, noticed something white scrunched up by the garbage. Closer inspection proved it to be a pull-up with a sticky-note attached to it.

The post-it read- _Dick, think twice before wearing Superman boxers in this house again. Clothes for you to wear are in the freezer; don't bother trying to get into your room or the laundry room, they're locked Alfred is also gone and won't be back until tomorrow morning. Feel free to use the diaper until then and meet me in the library once you're decent._

_-Bruce_

"What the Fuck", Dick seethed in confusion. He didn't even understand; this wasn't even funny. Oh, he'd get revenge somehow, and Bruce was just mad that he didn't wear Batman underwear like his mentor. He was not putting a pull-up on; Bruce wouldn't get the satisfaction! He'd probably take a picture or something! Besides, the freezer was **all** the way in the basement. _I'm sick; he should be cutting me some slack! I should' _He didn't have to go anywhere, so he sat like a pretzel on the floor, waiting. _Bruce would have to give in soon enough_.

That was an hour ago, and Dick was frozen. Maybe Bruce was serious. He grudgingly stood up, and shamefully pulled on the pull-up, which happened to have little Robins all over it. -_Original Bruce, original, he thought. _ The cotton felt all too familiar in some distant way, but he just shook it off, avoided the mirror, and ran out of the bathroom toward the basement as fast as his bird legs would get him there. It seemed to work as he sped down the second floor, holding up the cover as he ran.

He finally reached the basement and was about to make it to the freezer when he slipped on something soft. He plummeted to the ground. Caressing his achy head, he looked down and found a-no his- favorite pair of dark green-silk pajamas sprawled out next to him, along with a pair of NIKE socks, and boxers. There was also another note.

He quickly got dressed, savoring in the immediate warmth and put his attention toward the note afterwards. Once again, it was a post-it. It read- _Get dressed and come into the study_.

'Wow, thought Dick, this is a weird day'. He shook up his damp hair with his hand, disposed of the diaper, and made his way to ward his 'father' who was being a big dick in his opinion.

…

When Dick finally reached the study, he noisily pushed open the doors, ready to bitch when he suddenly became speechless. Instead of the library that he was accustomed to seeing, a large movie screen was sprawled up against the wall, along with two big, cushiony recliners next to each other. Blankets and pillows were folded in the corner next to a coffee-table with a stack of movies and various junk-foods and sodas assorted next to it.

He was dumb-founded; was this for him? "Nice, huh', a deep voice suddenly said, making Dick jump in surprise. Turning around, Batman- the dark-knight- stood in Navy Blue pajamas with the biggest smirk possible on his face. Dick only managed to let out a big grin. He was about to say something when Bruce silenced him with a shake of the head.

"You've been working very hard lately, before you got ill, and I believe that I haven't given you enough credit. I just worry about you; that's why I push you so hard. It's just difficult on my part to realize that you're so young and advancing so magnificently. I'm just pleased, and you deserve a night off, or at least a night where you can actually do something amusing."

Dick was flattered. He was not expecting this one bit. All the anger seemed to melt away as he just leaned forward, and hugged his dad, for the first time in a long time.

"Thanks, but this doesn't excuse the diaper", laughed Dick as he looked at his mentor smirking. Bruce laughed.

"I didn't think it would, but maybe that'll teach you to wear the "enemy's" face on your behind", Bruce playfully shot back.

"You're just mad that I don't wear Batman-ones like most people", Dick claimed while giggling viciously and making his way over to the stack of DVDs.

Bruce thought about that for a moment. "Point taken, resolved as he slumped into the left chair by Dick, who was checking out the movies. Dick was quiet. What's the matter", Bruce asked questioningly. Was Dick in pain?

"Uh, Dick laughed sheepishly, all of the movies are rated R".

He looked at his mentor questioningly. Bruce simply looked at his ward in amusement.

"Yes-and", Bruce asked calmly.

Dick looked at him like he was nuts, but in a good way. "I'm allowed to watch these", he asked with a half smile on his face. His boyish features were glowing.

"I don't see why not, you do encounter most of this stuff on a regular basis anyways. -But if you chicken out halfway during a movie, don't expect me to hold your hand, replied Bruce while crossing his arms over his chest. Besides, if we want most of these movies finished before tomorrow, we better get a move on".

Dick left out a happy, determined laugh. "You're on, but I'm still eating the junk food"!

"That's fine…but if you barf, I'm **not** cleaning it up, again", approved Bruce.

Dick was ecstatic! "SWEET, he screeched while throwing a DVD at Bruce. Doritos seem so much better than apple-sauce"! Bruce couldn't blame him, but raised an eyebrow at the movie choice.

"Saw"? A little old-school for you, isn't it", asked Bruce with a raised eyebrow.

Dick mischievously smiled. "Yea-maybe, but if the gore gets you too barf, and if I end up puking too, we'll both have to clean it up". He then startled laughing his ass off, unable to stop. Bruce playfully smacked him upside the head.

"You're on, the billionaire agreed, but the first one too puke has to explain to clean the bat-mobile tomorrow."

"But I'm sick", Dick claimed in exasperation.

Bruce smiled. "Every formula has its own variables", he calmly stated with a smirk. This was going to be a long night.

…

The next day, Bruce woke up feeling sick. It turns out he was allergic to the Pringles he ate the night before with Dick. I guess not everything can be prevented with caution after all. It then became a sick tradition to have a movie night whenever someone was off commission for health reasons. ;)

...

**THE END! =D Sorry If it got a bit corny…but hey, not everything in life meets protocol-standards… (: Thanks for reading…!**


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